a poem by Charles Fisher, UK

His coffin struggled
To get into the door

When the decease was living
He struggled to into the door
Too much drink in his blood
That unbalanced his legs
Somehow, he managed to,
Stagger into his home; where
His fingers dangled over the piano keys
His fingers wanted to play a tune, but
His drunk mind in a muddle,
What tune can fill the living room?
No musical note. He fell asleep at the piano stool.
The piano keys could only imagine being played

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